


Last Words Are For Fools (Who Haven't Said Enough)

by daunut



Category: SHINee, f(x)
Genre: Fashion AU, M/M, i blame bumkeyk for this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-20 03:42:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14252283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daunut/pseuds/daunut
Summary: “You’re the new assistant?”“Yes, I'm Choi Minho. I start today.”Kibum took in the man standing in front of him and raised an eyebrow. There wasn’t a brand name to be seen. Well-worn jacket, budget business trousers and no amount of polish could hide the fact those shoes had seen better days.He wouldn't last a week.Or, Kibum is constantly stressed, a certain personal assistant is the cause of said stress, and maybe, just maybe he could afford to breathe once in a while





	1. Reach For The Sky

**Author's Note:**

> we got to this point because of [this](https://www.instagram.com/p/BhQ8AI0D7ay/?hl=en&taken-by=bumkeyk) ig post

The thing is, Kibum needs everything to go to plan. He demands it. He’s clawed his way to his current position of power and he knows that, while he _did_ make it look effortless, the climb was by no means easy. As CEO, the fate of the entire company rests on his shoulders. Shoulders that are more often than not hunched over in utter defeat as he periodically listens to Luna's recount of his employees’ most recent attempt to send him to an early grave.

All it took was his latest personal assistant storming into his office- hair looking rather singed, a faint trail of smoke still escaping his once perfectly layered haircut- slamming a letter of resignation on the desk and leaving ashes all over the new carpet, for him to finally surrender.

He was getting too old for this.

 

“Tell me again why you decided using matches was a good idea. Do you not see the ‘no open flames’ signs plastered all over the building? Half the air we breathe here is hairspray.”

“It was his birthday! We had to have cake. And candles! We were being nice! Or, trying to anyway.”

“Yes, Taemin, and I’m sure he was thrilled.”

“It’s not like we set him on fire on _purpose_. Though in hindsight we probably shouldn’t have let Jinki carry the cake-”

The man in question let out an indignant noise. “Hey, I did not raise you all these years to be slandered this way.” Jinki pushed his glasses up a little so he could actually peer out of them, crossing his arms over his chest as he did his best to establish his authority. It wasn’t quite working. “Besides, your camera flash startled me.” 

Kibum held back a sigh as this response prompted Taemin, his best model and current pain in the ass, to wave his arms around in protest and launch into another spiel of how everything was definitely _not_ his fault, and Jinki had no proof. The two of them continued to bicker, seeming to forget Kibum was there. He merely let them babble on and leaned back in his chair to stare at the ceiling because, _how was this really his life?_ _Odd Eye_ was at a make or break point now, and Kibum felt the pressure more than anyone. He knew the fashion house had the potential, they just needed one moment, one perfect opportunity to showcase their unique style and brand to the world. There were just certain things which kept getting in the way. If _certain things_ translated to Lee Taemin and his never ending torment of every member of staff.

As if on cue, a sudden shriek from Taemin and a subsequent crash paused Kibum's contemplation. He snapped his head back to the scene in front of him, only to find Taemin and Jinki gazing forlornly at the floor where his desk lamp had just met its demise. The younger of the two had the decency to look guilty, restraining his previously flailing limbs to smaller radius. The exasperation must have been clear on Kibum’s face.

“Sorry,” he said, poking at a piece of glass with his shoe before Jinki mimed a universal sign for _don’t do that_. He rose from his seat and gestured for Taemin to do the same. Jinki gave the younger boy a concerned look as he fiddled with his fingers.

“How about you go see Amber? I think she mentioned something about going to that new barbeque place earlier,” he suggested, and in an instant Taemin’s signature grin was back as he nodded enthusiastically and bowed goodbye to both men, trying and failing to hide his excitement as he left the room.

As soon as he was out the door Kibum let his head fall into his hands, ignoring the face of sympathy he knew Jinki was giving him. He groaned.

“Don’t worry,” Jinki assured him, reaching over to ruffle his hair which only made him groan louder, “I’ll get someone to clean this up. And get you a coffee.”

“That’s not really the main issue right now.”

“No? And here I thought coffee was your lifeblood.” Jinki smiled at him, but Kibum couldn't quite muster one up himself.

"Jinki, how many personal assistants have we gone through this month alone?" Kibum sat up now, hands clasped in front of him so he didn't do anything stupid. Like pull his own hair out. Or stab Taemin with every pen on his desk. He eyed the tub of ballpoints hopefully.

"Um, well, if we're counting Himchan's departure yesterday-"

"We are."

"-then eleven." Jinki coughed into his hand and avoided Kibum's eyes.

Kibum glared at him. "And were all these people fired? Or did they leave of their own volition?"

'It depends on the situation for each individual-"

"Jinki."

The elder man sighed, folding his arms and staring dully at Kibum.

"All eleven employees quit. And before you say it, no it is not only because of Taemin, and you need to accept that." Jinki held up a hand to stop Kibum's oncoming retaliation. "The workloads you give them is too much, realistically anyone would be unwilling to keep working for long. I know you want efficiency from everyone, but we'll keep ending up understaffed. Why not get more than one person?"

"Because it's not necessary."

"All evidence points to the contrary." Kibum scowled.

"I know you mean well Jinki, but there's not a lot I can trust some other person with. You and Jonghyun are different. _Odd Eye_ is not just a business, it's more than that. You know it too." Kibum rubbed a hand over his face, staring at the paperwork on his desk, waiting to be read, organised and discussed in his next board meeting. "One assistant should be all that we need. Besides, if we don't expand the business within the next year, hiring more people will be out of the question. I can't be careless about anything. If we don't make it, everything is on _my_ head." 

"It doesn't have to be."

"Jinki-"

"Nope, I highly suggest a small change in your management style. Trust me, that is my job after all." Kibum snorted. 

"Just what do you suggest? And we're not getting more than one person." He smirked as Jinki's face fell. "I'm not budging on this one, old man."

Jinki huffed a little at the nickname. "Since your heart is so set on it." He shook his head at Kibum, who only rolled his eyes."Then we change our advertising. Most of our hopeful applicants see the glamour before anything else in this job. That's why the reality is too daunting and we end up here. If you let me, I'll talk to Luna about it."

"Her last few choices weren't particularly successful."

'We were looking for the wrong things! But now we'll do this differently." Playing his part, Jinki tapped his chin thoughtfully and hummed. "We need someone able to handle large workloads just as much as you. I'm sure switching up some of the requirements for applicants will get us somewhere. It's better than another Himchan."

Kibum gave it some thought. He knew Jinki was a smart man, and he knew he could trust him to do a good job. Looking back, there _was_ a repeating pattern of flustered, irritated and close to tears girls and boys who couldn't quite meet his standards, nor handle the pressure of such a key position. Change was what they needed.

"Alright. But mess this up and you owe me free overtime. Lots of it."

"I consider that a win."

 

* * *

 

"Minho? _Minho?_ Hey, Choi!"

His eyes snapped open and he blinked rapidly, attempting to rid himself of bleariness immediately as he searched for the direction of the voice. Minho shook his head and looked up to see the unimpressed face of his colleague leaning over into his office cubicle, hands drumming rhythmically on the feeble material. He sincerely hoped Heechul wasn't leaning his full weight on the partition, he wasn't sure if even his bulky, outdated work computer could withstand the fall.

"You're lucky it's only me and not the boss. Do you make a habit of this? You need to take it easy. In fact, myself and a couple friends are going out for drinks tonight if you want to come-"

"I'm alright, thanks Heechul."

The other man pouted, not moving from his spot. "You're no fun, Choi Minho. Hang out with your favourite coworker! I'll even pay." Minho only smiled and shook his head, turning back to his computer screen, which he _should_ have focusing on five minutes ago, if it wasn't just about the dullest thing he had ever seen. 

Heechul remained adamant however, and didn't seem to want him to go back to work. Minho couldn't say he truly minded. But enjoying Heechul's presence at work was one thing, and dealing with him when he was drunk was something else entirely. He did not want to relive the nightmare.

"Don't you have a deadline to meet today? Seeing as you're so full of free time," he asked once Heechul had transcended into talking about his dogs. The man had a face of disgust.

"Like it's anything important. I'll just ask for an extension, I always get one," he paused to push his hair back out of his face and flutter his eyelashes at Minho, "Since I'm oh so charming."

" _Or_ Mr Kim desperately wants you out of his office so he doesn't have to see any more of _that,_ " Minho chuckled as Heechul chucked a pack of post-its at him, missing miserably.

"Some people have no taste," he sniffed, finally extracting himself from Minho's workspace and turning towards someone else to bother. Minho payed him no mind and stretched his arms. He might as well finish this project today. He was ready to spend the next few hours mindlessly typing when Heechul spoke again. "Oh, by the way, there was a Park Sunyoung calling for you on the line. Said it was important."

Minho froze. "Luna?" He enquired, but Heechul had already made his way to Irene and didn't hear him. Minho frowned and glanced at the phone on his desk and dialled the receptionist.

"Yes, Choi Minho, I had a call?"

"One moment."

He hummed as he waited, bouncing his leg. He hadn't heard from Luna for years. He wasn't even sure he'd told her where he worked. Biting his lip, he tried to think of the last time they spoke, a few weeks after his therapy. She was always kind to him, but they'd drifted. Somewhere inside him he knew it was mostly his own fault, but he pushed the thought away. There was a time and a place for going down that road, and now was not it.

"You're connected." Minho sucked in a breath.

"Luna?"

"Minho! It's really you!" Her voice was excited, and practically radiated sunshine, just as he always remembered her. Minho let out his breath.

"Yes, yes it's me. Luna, why did you call?" He winced. It sounded harsher than he wanted, something he'd been meaning to work on. "I mean," he corrected, "It's been years, and this is the first I hear from you. Are you alright? Has anything happened?"

Luna laughed, Minho could feel the vibrations of it as he held the phone to his ear. "Not at all! Well, something _did_ happen, but nothing bad. I know it's been a while, and I'm sorry, but this is what I hope will make it up to you. Sitting still in an office must be the last thing you want to be doing."

Minho could only chew on his lip more, still at a complete loss. "How do you know where I work? And what are you talking about?"

"I spoke to some mutual friends, you know Seulgi right? Anyway, don't worry about that right now," she said, and the shuffling of papers could be heard as she paused for a second. "First things first. I think I've found you a job."


	2. A Still Soliciting Eye

Minho squinted at the building looming over half the street. Had Luna given him the correct address?

Towering above him, the misshapen glass shard poking out of the concrete simply stood silently, only the stylised _Odd Eye_ pasted on the top of the building confirming that he was indeed at the right location. Tugging his satchel firmly over his shoulder, Minho strode in through the automatic doors and headed for the reception. The space was large and brightly lit, people running here, there and everywhere and the noise was constant. Several voices were shouting at any one time and purely walking to one’s destination was a thing of the past. At least, that was what Minho found to be the case as he dodged a positively manic young man shrieking while he sprinted after a rogue clothing rack in just about the most expensive-looking suit he’d ever seen. Either Minho was losing his mind and was the only one to see him, or this was commonplace behaviour. Minho was inclined to go with the later as no one so much as batted an eye at the man. No one seemed to take notice of him either, which suited Minho just fine as he approached the welcome desk, spotting its lone occupant behind an excessively large computer monitor. The receptionist was leaning back in her chair and staring intently at her phone, playing what looked suspiciously like _Super Mario Bros._ Her face betrayed no emotion as her thumbs zoomed across the screen, tapping furiously as her player ended up on its last life. Minho cleared his throat to get her attention. Receiving no response, he tried again, this time a smidge louder.

 _“Ahem,”_ he said rather pointedly, furrowing his eyebrows as he glared holes through the girl’s head. It took about thirty seconds of awkwardly looming over her desk for her to realize that a shadow was blocking her light. Slowly, she raised her head to look up, blinking at her newly acquired company. She didn’t look in the least bit surprised or embarrassed as she assessed the man in front of her. In fact, she seemed almost bored, reluctantly pressing pause on her game. By now, Minho was feeling more than a little unnerved by the people at _Odd Eye_ and he’d only spent two minutes in the place. He waited for the girl to say something, attempting to school his irritated expression into a more neutral one as she sighed. 

“Can I help you?” 

Minho nodded. “I’m Choi Minho, here for the interview-“ 

He stopped abruptly as the receptionist halted him with _hush_ gesture using her free hand to wave at his face, eyes back on her phone screen.

“Sorry but can you hold on for a few minutes? I need to finish this level, it’s been taking me all day.”

Minho blinked. She couldn’t possibly be serious. Just what sort of place had Luna sent him to? He had half a mind to walk right out the building when a familiar voice reached his ears.

“Minho! You made it!”

Spinning round so fast he almost gave himself whiplash, Minho spotted the source of the voice. Jogging a little to reach him was Luna, that ever-present smile on her face as she waved enthusiastically, somehow holding onto a stack of files with one arm. Her hair was the still that one shade of chestnut brown but she’d grown it out past her shoulders, her bright eyes the same as they had always been. Minho couldn’t quite place what had changed exactly, but the Park Sunyoung he was seeing now looked so much happier. It hurt, almost, that he had missed so much of it, but he was there now. 

He didn’t realise he was grinning too until she was right in front of him and pulling him in for a hug. _Still short as ever too,_ he thought as they pulled apart and he told her so. Luna only huffed and smacked him on the arm.

“We can’t all be as unnaturally tall as you. Besides, you haven’t changed a bit either! Same disaster hair, did you even put a comb through it this morning?” 

Minho opened his mouth to protest at her remarks but was silenced immediately as Luna reached up to smooth down the stubborn hairs of his fringe, her surprisingly strong arms forcing him to bow his head a little so she could fuss over him properly. It felt like the past seven years hadn’t happened at all and they were back in college, hanging out on the bleachers exchanging jokes and laughing along with the rest of their friends. Only none of them stayed in contact after those days were over, after everything went downhill. Except for Luna.

Minho smiled, lifting up his head despite Luna’s complaints that she wasn’t finished. Silently, he pulled her in for another hug, ignoring the sound of surprise she made at the action, and he held on just a little longer than before.

“Thank you,” he said, feeling her relax and reach upwards to ruffle his hair as she let out a puff of laughter.

“You’re welcome.” They let go once more and Luna’s smile only grew further.

“I really can’t believe I’m seeing you again after all this time! And hopefully work with you too. This is just so exciting! And- oh, did you sign in with Yeri yet?” She paused her spiel, looking up at him expectantly.

“Yeri? You mean,” he waved a hand at the receptionist, back on her phone and now with her feet up on the desk. “Is she even old enough to be working here?”

“I’m twenty, asshole,” came the oddly serene reply from Yeri, eyes not leaving her phone screen. Minho looked taken aback, a positively scandalised expression on his face as he met Luna’s eyes. She shrugged, eyes glinting with amusement.

“She’s a handful, but brilliant at what she does. Speaking of, Yeri, do let Jinki know that his one o’clock is here? And that we’ll be right up,” she raised her voice and directed it at Yeri, who broke free of her trance and nodded at her, reaching out towards to her computer mouse. She clicked once, twice on the screen before going back to her phone. 

“Done.”

“Wonderful. Come on then Minho, let’s get going.”

Minho followed Luna without further question. Trailing behind her a little he scrutinised his surroundings more. The building really was a whole other world compared to his shabby cubicle at the office. Everyone around him seemed to be in their element, exuding class in their designer clothes. Minho subconsciously fidgeted with the sleeve of his age-old jacket. He wasn’t even sure the last time he went shopping for a new one. In fact, he was almost certain he’s been wearing the same one since back in college. He glanced at Luna in case she had noticed too, but she was busy nattering on about how Minho would love the place once he got the job.

 _“If_ I get the job, you mean,” he corrected, finding himself in front of the lift, Luna pressing the button and ushering him inside once it arrived at their floor. “I haven’t had an interview in years, Luna. And this place looks very… prestigious.”

Luna snorted, pressing the button for the top floor and leaning back against the wall. “I assure you, it’s not all that prestigious. Besides, I wouldn’t drag you out here if I didn’t think you were up to the job. It’ll be good for you. And Kibum.”

“Kibum?”

“Oh, your boss. Kim Kibum, founder and CEO of _Odd Eye?_ Really, Minho, shouldn’t you have at least researched this before coming to an interview to be his _personal assistant?”_

“You said it didn’t require much research! And that it paid well, the fact that this is a _fashion company_ is already miles out of my comfort zone-“

“You’ll be fine.“

“-and you only gave me about three days warning. Who does that?” Minho huffed, folding his arms and glaring at Luna. Or at least, he was trying to. Luna simply rolled her eyes and shook her head fondly. 

“You came here anyway.” The corner of Minho’s mouth twitched. Luna grinned.

“Yeah. I did.” 

The sudden ping of the lift telling them they had arrived at their desired floor brought Minho back to the present, and the daunting reality that he had no idea what he was doing. Following Luna numbly he ended up pushed through a random door and into an office with a young man at the desk, peering over his glasses and muttering to himself as he shuffled through papers lying haphazardly all over the desk and part of the floor. Minho inched forward into the room and hoped his catechism with Yeri wouldn’t repeat itself. Thankfully, the man noticed his presence and gave a jump at the sight of him, blinking owlishly for a few seconds before his eyes widened in realisation.

“Ah, you’re Minho, right? Come sit down! Don’t mind the mess it’s just been quite hectic here,” he said, grabbing a bunch of files and shifting them to the floor beside him so the actual desk was visible.

“Wait,” Minho set his bag down and picked up the files still strewn across the table, “Let me help.”

The man looked mortified. “Oh no! This is my mess, please I do apologise. I must have missed the notification for this meeting. The place has been a madhouse, I guess you can see why we’re hiring!” He laughed, giving Minho a grateful smile as he handed him the last few papers to be tucked away.

“It’s fine, really.” Minho returned the smile and settled into the chair opposite the man. Despite his lack of order, he had a calming effect and Minho nearly forgot he was here on a job interview. The man finally faced him properly, fixing his glasses hurriedly.

“Thank you for that, it really is my fault. Ah, I’m Lee Jinki by the way. Managing director, or well, usually I am. Today hasn’t been my day.” He grinned at Minho, who was about to return the gesture when he suddenly switched to such a serious expression, dark eyes boring into his own. Minho wasn’t entirely sure he was the same person. Staring him directly in the eye Jinki folded his arms and leaned forward, giving him no means to escape his stare. Minho breathed in slowly, bracing himself for the worst when Jinki began questioning him immediately.

“So tell me, where and when did you get those shoes?”

Minho blinked.

“I’m sorry, _what?”_

The next forty minutes consisted of Jinki’s grilling questions about his work ethic, experience and the most _utterly_ pointless details about himself, his work, even his co-workers. Minho was almost at his wits end. (“And exactly when did this Heechul dye his hair? What month, what week, what _day-“_ “Excuse me but- why? How is this at all relevant?” “Just answer the question please. And would you define the shade as burgundy or perhaps more oxblood?”) 

Eventually Jinki finished his tirade of questions, his poker face easing back into a satisfied smile.

“Well, that’s just about everything. Thank you, for being such a good sport about all that,” he said, making Minho snort in agreement. He then realised what he had just done, eyes widening in panic.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“No it’s quite alright. I think I’d also be questioning the sanity of my interviewer if I were you,” Jinki gave him a knowing look. “By now I’m sure you’ve realised _Odd Eye_ is no ordinary company. It’s not easy to get to this point, as I’m sure Kibum will remind you every day from now.” He paused to direct the full force of his smile at Minho, a mischievous glint in his eye. Minho gaped.

“You- you mean I have the job?”

“Most certainly.”

“But how?” Minho was trying his best not to flounder uselessly, he’d only entered the building an hour previous and suddenly he had a new place of employment. Just how had that been possible?

“Out of all the people I’ve seen so far, you’re the only one who stayed throughout the entire interview,” Jinki explained. “I wasn’t asking weird questions just to be irritating, don’t worry, it was to see how you would cope in the environment here, the workload, the variety of tasks and whatnot. Oh, and to see how good your memory is, of course.”

Minho almost glared at him, because _of course_ in what universe? Sensing his hostility, Jinki chuckled and explained.

“This _is_ a fashion company, seasons come and go. You’ll need to be able to catalogue a lot of items and memorise them, keep on top of the daily updates to our folios, be able to communicate with and know most of our contacts by name, and most importantly,” he hummed, giving Minho what seemed to be a pitying look before nodding once in finality, “you’ll have to put up with Kibum.”

 

* * *

 

Kibum patted himself down and cursed. Just where had Jinki gotten to? The man always carried Kibum’s painkillers with him and right now, his migraine was getting worse by the second. He was supposed to have another personal assistant by now, Jinki- who was never late, _never-_ was absent and Luna still hadn’t answered his call to enquire about it. 

He rubbed at his temples, rising from his chair in the hopes that a change of pace would ease the throbbing pain. He hoped, at the very least, their latest addition would be a step up from Himchan. He had a sneaking suspicion Jonghyun had also been involved in the fire incident, but damn if that bastard wasn’t sly when he wanted to be. But if interrogated, Taemin would definitely crack under pressure-

“Kibum? He’s here now.” 

Luna’s voice sounded fuzzier than usual on his ancient desk phone. Making a note to ask her later about Jinki- and more importantly some ibuprofen- he made his way back to the desk, easing himself into his chair slowly. According to Luna, she and Jinki had agreed this one was in for the long haul. However the last time they’d told him that he had ended up with Amber, who while being an excellent addition to the _Odd Eye_ runway, was privy to disturbing the peace with Taemin on a weekly basis. That, and Kibum _knew_ the looks she was constantly shooting Luna’s way had a significant involvement in the selection process.

“Alright,” he replied, “Send him in.”

Seconds later, his office door creaked open and in strode a tall, dark haired man, eyes wide as he looked around the room. Kibum tapped his fingers at his side impatiently, used to the star struck nature of almost every new staff member. The man seemed to get over it fairly quickly however, and made his way to the desk, armed with a polite smile and hand stuck out for him to shake. Kibum ignored it in favour of analysing the man from top to bottom.

“You’re the new assistant?” He said, leaking as much disappointment as he could into his tone while still remaining subtle. The man was undeterred, returning his hand to his side as if he hadn't just been flat out rejected, polite smile still fixed in place.

“Yes, Choi Minho. I start today.’

Kibum took in the man standing in front of him and raised an eyebrow. There wasn’t a brand name to be seen. Well-worn jacket, budget business trousers and no amount of polish could hide the fact those shoes had seen better days. 

He wouldn’t last a week. 

The man- no, _Minho,_ to his credit, didn’t look a _complete_ mess, he had his genetics to thank for that, but he was cutting it close. The rusted zipper on his jacket spoke volumes. For Kibum that was bad enough. He wasn’t fully confident Jinki’s outreach for a more impressive applicant was as effective as the other man seemed to think it was. Was this travesty really the best he could offer? Kibum frowned.

“Who signed off on this?” He asked, ignoring the young man’s eyes flickering towards the seat opposite his at the desk. He likely wouldn’t be here much longer anyway. Just as Kibum reached for his phone to call his secretary, the door swung open and in strode the bane of his existence, cheerfully waving at his boss as he intruded his safe space for the umpteenth time.

“Taemin,” said Kibum, closing his eyes and willing himself to take a calm, deep breath. “How many times have I asked you to knock before coming in here? Better yet, how many times have I told you to ask Luna outside if I am perhaps otherwise occupied, so you can then do something more productive, such as your _job?”_

The menace himself only grinned as he approached the desk, still wearing an oversized denim jacket- presumably from the morning’s photoshoot- his sleeves dangling dangerously close to Kibum’s coffee. Sensing the oncoming threat that is Lee Taemin, he reached out and moved the cup away from the danger zone. Minho was still standing in front of him, now eyeing the young model curiously as he fiddled with the handle of the satchel he was carrying. Another supermarket item, miserably scruffy-looking and was that a _coffee stain_ on the front? Kibum could almost cry. He opted to glare at Taemin instead however, as anger seemed to aid his focus these days, and the sooner Kibum was left in peace from his worst nightmare the better.

“I came to see the newbie! Luna told me he’d be here.” Taemin turned to blind Minho with his devil grin. “Hey, I’m Taemin. This old man is Kibum,” leaning in to Minho’s ear and whispering theatrically, he added, “he’s getting to that age so we let him think he runs the place.”

Minho leaned back from him and his eyes snapped towards Kibum and back to Taemin as he frowned. “Um. Right.”

Kibum glowered at them both.

“Did Luna also tell you that if you pester me one more time I’m getting Jonghyun to test his latest creation on you?” He intervened before he lost further control of the situation. “He’s been begging me to let him throw in that new leather number.” Kibum watched in satisfaction at the pure horror etched upon Taemin’s face.

“You _know_ he makes the pants too tight,” he whined, sleeves flopping madly, one smacking Minho right on the nose. Kibum held in a snort.

“Exactly. Now get out before I sic him on you.”

The young model scampered away, leaving Minho staring after him incredulously while Kibum kept his expression as neutral as possible, lest he give away his favoured emotion of killing intent. Turning back to Minho, he folded his arms and gazed at the man thoughtfully. The man’s discomfort was clear as day; fashion was evidently a world away from what he was used to, and Kibum doubted he’d know silk from cotton. And, since he seemed so disturbed already…

“Think you can handle being around _that_ every day?” Kibum asked. “Taking into consideration that is what we call a _tame_ Taemin.” 

Minho opened his mouth immediately, before thinking the better of it and nodding furiously. He chewed his lip- Kibum grimaced internally- before answering.

“Definitely. I’ve dealt with worse.”

Kibum raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

He spun his chair around so his back was facing the fashion disaster. _I will certainly endeavour to be,_ he thought. 

“Very well. Go see Luna about my schedule and report back to me tomorrow morning, seven o’clock sharp. Don’t be late.”

“But I was told to start today-“

“You’ll start tomorrow. Think of this as your first work holiday, you won’t be getting any more afterwards. Now get on with it, because _I_ certainly haven’t got all day.”

With that, Kibum leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs waiting for the cry of outrage. He slicked back his hair, pressing a hand briefly to the source of his now fading headache, all the while listening to the mildly affronted gasp emitted from Minho and the telltale steps out of the room, the door closing with a _click_. Not quite the dramatic reaction he had been hoping for, but Minho didn't entirely disappoint. Due to cheap construction, his walls were not entirely soundproof and muffled voices could be heard just outside, namely a ruffled new employee complaining to Luna (-“how can he just dismiss me like that? What is that guy’s problem-“). If that was all it took, this Minho would be out the door in no time. Kibum smirked.

This should be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhh heads up i have exams super soon so updates won't be very regular but i'll do my best


	3. Unto The Breach

“Of all the sick day excuses I’ve been fed from my employees over the years, _including Taemin,_ this one takes the cake. Literally, why are you bringing me cake? We’ve been over this, I have a healthy diet of exclusively high quality espresso and soju.”

Jinki only shook his head at Kibum as he cut a slice of slightly squished looking cake, scorch marks from the Incident with Himchan still immortalised in the icing. It had been sitting in the break room fridge and there was nothing else left besides a mouldy milk carton and an excessively cling-filmed, half-eaten burrito marked _‘Amber’_ in red sharpie. Jinki really hoped she hadn’t forgotten it in there for very long.

“All the more reason to give you to actual food,” he replied to Kibum, eyeing him with exasperation. “You’re getting too skinny these days. And you can’t even _hold_ your soju-”

“Alright! Message received. But why weren’t you here yesterday?”

Jinki looked at the ground and hummed, shifting a little. “I promise I will tell you, but not right now. If everything works out.”

“What are you talking about? Jinki, it’s me, I’ve known you for god knows how long. And you never miss a day of work.” Kiibum ran a hand through his hair as he stared at the older man, who was trying his best to look indifferent. He huffed a quiet laugh because, no matter how hard he tried, Jinki’s poker face was terrible. But worry was starting to worm its way into his mind, and Kibum asked tentatively, “Don’t you trust me?”

Jinki switched his gaze from the floor to Kibum and looked at him as if he had suddenly sprouted a second head. “What- of course I do! Don’t be silly. You just let me worry about some things and get on with your work for now.”

“You sound like my grandmother, old man.” Kibum chastised, feeling a bit relieved and letting it go for the moment. If Jinki promised, that was good enough for him.

“Exactly. Now listen to your elder and eat up.” He slid a slice of pitifully cut cake at Kibum; the forlorn lump truly settled on its chosen surface and attempting to permanently affix itself onto the plate, the icing-covered top drooping sadly on shiny ceramic. Kibum wrinkled his nose in disdain. But then, he _was_ feeling hungry, and he hadn’t eaten since…Kibum didn’t even know when he’d last eaten, which he felt he should be more worried about, really, but Jinki seemed to be doing all that for him. And if he was a sensible, sentimental being maybe Kibum could word all of this to his confidante of so many years, but being inept at any sort of social grace all he could come up with was:

“You know I can afford to order something decent to eat, don’t you?”

Jinki snorted. “As if you have the time and patience.”

“You’ve got me there.”

Giving in and sparing one more look of sympathy for his misery slice, he dug in, accepting a fork from Jinki so he could at least appear as if he cared about his eating habits. Seconds after taking his first bite, a couple of erratic knocks on the door interrupted his attack on the sugary confection and Kibum sighed, raising his voice to say, “Just get in here, Jonghyun.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth had the man thrown open the doors, dragged in a clothing rack almost twice his size and planted a presentation board into the office carpet with so much force he may as well have nailed it in permanently. Jonghyun smiled brightly, shaking his hair out of his face, which was a light pastel pink that he’d been sporting for a good few months now.

“You knew this was coming,” he began, “and you’re going to let me finish or _bad things_ will happen. I have Yeri at my disposal now. Fear me.” He grinned in satisfaction at the wide eyes that greeted him. Kibum nearly gasped.

“What kind of deal did you strike with the devil to manage that?”

“Made her a hairpin, a _Jjong exclusive_. Plus a couple of shoes from last season. Piece of cake. And, speaking of…” He glanced at Kibum’s gloomy, glucose catastrophe hopefully. Of course. Kibum had a burning desire to roll his eyes into the back of his skull. At this point, he was one more food-related bribe away from quitting his job.

“If you make this good,” Kibum settled on, “You can eat the whole thing.” Both he and Jonghyun blatantly ignored Jinki’s protests of _at least finish that slice will you, you need to eat more._

“Not a problem,” Jonghyun replied, shuffling through flashcards he had procured out of nowhere, Kibum narrowing his eyes at his friend’s insanely tight trousers and blazer to find the source. He looked at Jinki for answers, but he merely shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

Eventually tearing his gaze away from the cards Jonghyun looked at them both, raising a hand towards the clothing rack, a gesture slightly dimmed when the entire thing was very capable of swallowing the man whole.

“Behold,” he said, “the best thing to have happened since you decided to hire me.”

“Fairly sure I remember it being less Kibum hiring you, more you threatening him with a heavy sewing machine- _ow.”_ Jinki wasn’t able to avoid the flashcard that bonked him on the nose. He rubbed the targeted area sulkily.

“As I was saying, before _someone_ had escaped the senior citizen’s home,” he gave Jinki a pointed look, to which the elder made an exaggerated face in retaliation, pout and all, trying to prove his eternal youth. Despite both men being older than him, Kibum was sure their immaturity increased exponentially whenever they were near each other. He vaguely patted Jinki’s arm in consolation, not taking his eyes off Jonghyun lest the other man take offence and keep them all in his grip that much longer, or god forbid- set a loose Yeri on them. Luckily, Jonghyun relented and simply ploughed on with his speech.

“Here I present to you, the _1 of 1 collection!_ One of a kind, I’ve blended together different styles of retro and punk fashion from the late eighties, early nineties. As you can see, there are some contemporary twists in the stitching and arrangement of fabrics here, to add a little flair-“

Kibum let himself become absorbed. Not in Jonghyun’s words of course, because half his speech was filled with anecdotes about his dog (and cute as she was, she wasn’t exactly _Odd Eye’s_ target market), so instead he looked to the designs presented before him. While Jonghyun’s presentation was just a notch below excessive, there was no doubt that the man was a creative genius. Kibum knew talent when he saw it. He scanned the shirt and brightly coloured denim number Jonghyun was waving energetically at, nearly flying off his feet in enthusiasm.

“This one looks good,” Kibum said, standing up and taking the clothes off the rack, analysing the appliqué on the back. _He definitely stitched this himself,_ Kibum noted, judging by the detail and precision of the needlework.

“Nineties, you said? And it’s more street fashion than we’ve ever tried before.” Kibum put the shirt back in its hanger and folded his arms, looking over all the items carefully. “It could work. But it’s risky, compared to our previous collections.”

“Our competition haven’t done it either, and given our standing in the market, it might give us that boost we need in street fashion. High end doesn’t always need to be in-your-face glamour,” Jonghyun replied, apparently done with his presentation as he hopped onto Kibum’s desk and shovelled cake in his mouth. “Wasn’t this for Himchan?” He asked, spraying crumbs in Kibum’s general direction. The latter grimaced, dusting off the crumbs and giving Jonghyun a kick in the shin.

“First off, I’m going to have to disagree with you on principle, as well as the fact that you’re laughably wrong. Glamour is what makes high end. And second, Himchan quit last week. Do try to keep up.”

Jonghyun somehow brightened even more. “He quit? That’s great!”

Kibum fixed Jonghyun with his iciest glare while Jinki held back a chuckle.

Jonghyun quickly shook his head, trying to gulp down his morsel of cake to explain himself, only to fail, choke so violently that he sounded like a strangled cat, and eventually hurl the offending piece of cake onto the carpet. The room was silent for the longest three seconds of Kibum’s life as he stared at the lump in utter disgust.

“Okay, that’s it. We’re getting wooden floors in.”

Kibum edged away from the splash zone to collapse into his desk chair again while Jinki patted Jonghyun on the back soothingly, handing him a glass of water.

“What I meant was,” Jonghyun started, gasping for air as his voice returned to him, ”now that Himchan is gone, this means we have a newbie.”

“Don’t remind me,” Kibum groaned, hand automatically going to massage his temples at the thought of the glorified rag doll he had the misfortune of meeting the previous day. Clearly there had been a mix up of address, and Mr. Desperate Cry For Help should have taken a left at his first exit and headed towards the charity shop on the other side of town.

“He’s a walking hate-crime against humanity.”

Jonghyun scoffed. “I’m sure you’ve seen worse,” he said. “Remember that time Jinki came to work with odd socks?”

Kibum looked at him, appalled. “Why would you just say something like that? Now it’s stuck in my mind. It’s going to haunt me forever.”

“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic. And anyway, what matters most about the new guy is his abilities, not his dismal fashion choices,” Jonghyun declared sagely, cautiously chewing on the cake once more. Kibum raised an eyebrow at him.

“Mighty big words from a man who has repeatedly told me a good ass is the basic requirement for any employee.”

Jonghyun didn’t even blink. “What, like I’m wrong?” He turned to Jinki. “You’ve met him, haven’t you? What kind of ass are we talking?”

Jinki sputtered and fumbled for words, sending a silent plea to Kibum for help. One look from the man was enough to tell him he was on his own for this one.

“That’s- Jonghyun I was _interviewing_ him, do you really think at any point I was looking at his ass?”

“Yes, “ both Jonghyun and Kibum replied simultaneously.

Jinki frowned at the two. Jonghyun looked positively gleeful while Kibum was holding in his smirk, but not well enough to be undetected by Jinki, who huffed at him.

“This is a _workplace,”_ he insisted. Kibum waved him off.

“And I own it. So humour me. At this point an ass is probably the only valuable asset our latest recruit has to offer.”

Jinki grumbled a bit before giving into defeat. Years of Kibum had made him wiser in that respect. “I’m just going to say- his trousers weren’t very well fitted, but he made it work.”

Jonghyun stood up from the table, viciously dissatisfied. “That’s nothing! We know you’re not pure, old man, I need details. The curvature, his muscles, the posture and form; and yet you refuse to give me a half-decent description? I demand a fully cited essay, on my desk by two thirty.” Jinki covered his face with his hands.

 _“No,_ would you stop drooling over him before you’ve even met him? And stop talking about his ass, it’s inappropriate and _you’ll meet him today._ So maybe don’t scare him away in the first two minutes.”

“Of course not, that’s Kibum’s job.” Jonghyun only cackled at the growl sent his way. “And to a lesser extent, Taemin.”

“Shut up. And I assure you, Mr Choi will be a sore disappointment. He’ll be out the door in no time, so let us move on to more important matters,” Kibum said, already bored of the conversation.

“Now, now, you’re going to make me think he’s an Adonis out of spite.”

“You think that about everyone. Name one person in this entire building you _haven’t_ flirted with.”

“Well, this new Choi guy apparently, but we will rectify that situation in about,” he paused to check his watch, “five minutes? If he gets here on time.”

“I’ll fire him on the spot if he’s late.”

“No you won’t, I am not letting you pull all nighters to finish the extra work. It’s not good for your health,” Jinki said firmly. “You’re not as young as you used to be.”

Kibum scoffed. “This coming from you, old man? I know you complain about ageing every time you walk up the stairs.”

“That is not the point-“

“Guys, you’re all old and disintegrating, we get it. Why don’t we turn our attention to something much more interesting, like this stray I found wandering in the lobby.”

Everyone whipped round to see a wild Taemin dragging in a bemused Minho by the arm, other hand occupied by Kibum’s coffee order. Kibum fought his visual displeasure of the man with the desperation for his much-needed caffeine. He checked his watch. One minute past seven. He allowed himself a small smirk of victory.

“You’re late.”

As expected, Minho’s face fell into a frown and he looked at his own watch. “It’s only one minute past-“

“And therefore you are late, correct? At least bring that cup here, hopefully it’s not a strain on you.” Kibum ignored the look Jinki shot him, and Jonghyun’s not so subtle coughing to _give it a rest already, Kibum._ Taemin was busy trying to steal Jinki's glasses off his face. The older man somehow managed to restrain him silently.

Minho opened his mouth to protest but quickly closed it, grudgingly placing Kibum's coffee on the desk. He smirked. _So he_ can _learn,_ he thought, picking up the coffee on the desk. He took a tentative sip before scrunching up his face in disgust.

“You added milk? When did I say I wanted milk?”

“I asked Luna for your order, I must have made a mistake-“

“Save it.” Kibum slammed the cup back on the table, wiping his mouth swiftly with a tissue. He dragged his eyes up at Minho, the mere sight of his tragic jacket almost lighting a fire in his veins. That this man had the audacity to turn up to work looking like that, putting Kibum’s reputation and his company on the line. He clasped his hands on the desk, tilting his head as he instructed his latest recruit.

“Making mistakes is the excuse of an idiot, and I don’t tolerate people who are liable to doing so. You will get my coffee order right, you will come into work on time, you will complete the tasks assigned to you without delay and if not then this time tomorrow, you _will_ be out of a job. Do I make myself clear?”

Kibum stared into Minho’s eyes, satisfaction finding its way into his heart at the underlying fury he could see there, the glare crackling just beneath the neutral surface. Minho refused to answer back. Not stupid enough to defy him, nor complaint enough to manage a _yes, sir._ Interesting.

“Well? I don’t like repeating myself. Jinki can show you your office. Jonghyun, go work on the collection. And Taemin,” Kibum paused, looking at the grinning young man and breathing deeply, before waving a hand at him. “Do your _damn job_ unless you want more overtime. Without pay.” Taemin made a face and bounded out the room, waving to Minho, Jonghyun and Jinki.

“I’ll see you all later! Not you though, Kibum,” he giggled to himself as he ducked out the room, only just escaping his boss’s wrath. Kibum growled, irritation rising at the frozen employees surrounding him.

“Get to it then,” he snapped.

Jonghyun and Jinki both nodded and went with Minho, Jonghyun eagerly hurrying towards him while Jinki smiled politely. Kibum rolled his eyes at their enthusiasm, watching them turn away to the door, escaping him. With Minho’s back facing him, Kibum grimaced at the jacket once more.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he said, grabbing the man’s attention. Minho turned around, a small smile disappearing from his face.

“Yes?”

“Do get rid of that thing,” he waved at the jacket, ”it’s getting painful to look at.”

Minho frowned, steely eyes snapping away from Kibum quickly as possible as he turned away again, nodding curtly before continuing on his way out. Kibum waited till all three of them were gone and he was alone to let out a sigh. Maybe he had been wrong; this Minho wasn’t so fun after all. Kibum was supposed to be the most stubborn man in the room. It was his right, after all. But this Choi Minho… _he really thinks that highly of himself?_ Kibum mused, resting his chin in his hands. _I do like a challenge._

 

* * *

 

“Now before you ask, yes he is always like that, so you might want to get used to it. And,” Jonghyun reached into his pocket, pulling out a rose and leaning closer to Minho, voice dropping to just above a whisper, “this is for you, a flower as exquisite as yourself, a beauty incomparable-“

Minho stepped back, shaking his head. “Uh, sorry but, I’m not really that kind of guy.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, offering a deflated Jonghyun a smile of sympathy. “I’m really sorry.”

Jonghyun sighed dramatically, but his grin was back as he pocketed his (evidently fake) rose once more. “I think I’ll survive. Shocking as it may be, you’re not the first to say no to all of this,” he gestured towards himself, hands on his hips. Minho just looked at him incredulously. Jonghyun didn’t seem to notice. “I know, it’s practically impossible, but you are in fact second in line to deny yourself such excellence. Number one is to your left there.”

Minho twisted his head to see Jinki muttering to his clipboard, crossing out and ticking items on its paper at an alarming speed. Minho patted his arm to get his attention, but the man was far too absorbed in his work. He looked at Jonghyun, who was shaking his head amusedly at Jinki. Minho’s lips also twitched.

“I take it the rose didn’t work on him?”

“Oh, you have no idea. Thought it was part of a new design and I had to come up with an entire clothing line in one night. It was still amazing, of course, but…” Jonghyun shuddered, gazing up at Minho with haunted eyes. “I’m telling you, it’s dangerous flirting with older men.”

Minho laughed at him. “I’ll bear that in mind.”

“I thought you weren’t that kind of guy?”

“Advice is advice. So if Jinki was your only failure, I’m guessing you didn’t try this with Kibum.”

Jonghyun only quirked a brow. “Oh, you’d think so.”

Minho stopped to stare at him. “What, you mean he really-“

“No, of course not. I tried asking him for a drink and he tipped his espresso over my head.”

Minho snorted. “That doesn’t really surprise me.”

“And then proceeded to yell at me for wasting his coffee.”

“Neither does that. Also, I’m pretty sure if I don’t hurry up, Kibum is going to murder me with a single glare.”

Jonghyun’s eyes widened and he pushed past Minho to grab Jinki’s arm, shaking him violently. Jinki awoke from his trance and began to complain when Jonghyun interrupted him.

“Minho’s office? We’re showing him around?”

“Oh, right,” Jinki said, allowing Jonghyun to remain glued to his arm as he tried to catch up with the rest of the world. “Where exactly is it again?”

Jonghyun nearly smacked his forehead into the clipboard while Jinki beamed at him. Minho simply observed the exchange, half lost and half entertained. Besides Kibum, he was starting to like this strange, new environment. Before he could offer to ask someone else, Jonghyun raised his head to look at him, rolling his eyes before dragging Jinki behind him as he marched onwards through the corridor.

“Alright, I’ll show him, but you’re coming for moral support. Follow me then, Minho. Your office is just through here. Dump your stuff and then we can get Kibum his coffee before he bursts a blood vessel-“

Minho followed, nodding along to the shorter man’s ranting and intermittent comments by Jinki. He found himself grinning at their jokes and jibes at each other as he went. At least his colleagues were friendly enough. Albeit them being slightly…eccentric. If the rest of his time was as interesting as these two then Luna was definitely right about it being a step up from paperwork central.

However, that was before they arrived at his office and immediately Minho winced at the lack of room. _Another cubicle,_ he thought, feeling a tad deflated. He sighed, looking resigned. With the three of them in there, he couldn’t even reach the desk, shoved into a corner with barely a meter’s width to separate it from the door. Jinki noticed his discomfort and gave him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry it’s not particularly brilliant. But if it’s any consolation you won’t be in here too often. Paperwork is probably less than half the battle.”

Minho thought back to Kibum’s sharp orders and piercing gaze, the constant face of disdain whenever he entered the room. He gave Jinki a deadpan stare.

“I’m not quite sure that’s really a positive.”

As if on cue, the desk phone jumped into life and the dulcet tones of Kibum greeted them. _”If you’re not too busy, I do believe I asked one thing of you. At least get the order right this time-“_

The voice was cut off as Jonghyun reached over to switch off the speaker. Minho gaped at him.

“What are you doing? He’s clearly said how close he is to firing me, and I really don’t think he’s kidding,” he hissed, reaching over to switch it on again. Jonghyun wasn’t perturbed in the least, swatting him away from the desk.

“Believe me, you’ll be fine. Just don’t let him see you in a vulnerable state; it gives him too much verbal ammo. Stick with us, we’re the highlight of this job.”

Minho must have looked rather sceptical as Jinki patted him on the back and rolled his eyes at his colleague. “Jonghyun is exempt from most of the suffering thanks to his self-proclaimed genius. Go get Kibum’s godforsaken caffeine and we’ll introduce you to the rest of the team.”

Minho grinned as Jonghyun pouted at them both, shoving Jinki half-heartedly.

“No problem. I’ll be back in a little bit.” He left the office and hurried to exit the building, in hunt of the classy café Kibum had specified on his schedule. Minho sighed. This was far more intense than his years of sitting in the midst of files, typos and Heechul’s constant thievery of his office supplies. Yet Minho thought about how he enjoyed the enigmas that were Jonghyun and Jinki, and even the brief moments of chaos Taemin brought with him was an improvement to his dingy nine to five cardboard cubicle. _But Kibum,_ he thought. _He took one look at me and made up his mind. What kind of man is that level of condescending?_

Minho shoved his hands in his pockets as he entered the street, the cold autumn wind billowing through his hair. It pushed him back in his steps, just a little. Minho stopped, and let a smile form on his face. _That’s it,_ he decided. _He thinks he knows me so well already? That him pushing me around will get the better of me?_ Minho lifted his head to view the top floor of _Odd Eye,_ where his boss was undoubtedly shouting at some other poor employee.

If impressive was what Kibum wanted, then Minho was contractually obligated to comply. He wasn’t one to half-ass anything, after all. Minho stared ahead determinedly.

_Just you wait Kim Kibum. You’ve seen nothing yet._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i took ages but exams are _over_ at long last! its still a wee bit hectic but i will continue to update when i can, hopefully i won't take this long again. 
> 
> thank you for your comments n love it means a lot!! :)


	4. Life Holds The Vitriol Bottle

After successfully depositing an acceptable coffee on Kibum’s desk and hightailing it out of the pits of hell, Minho had been dragged on a tour of the building by his two latest colleagues. Or his new _survival guide_ as Jonghyun kept calling them. Already, Minho’s head was spinning. Try as he might, he was sure it was impossible to remember all the names and faces he had greeted in the last ten minutes. Besides Luna, who he obviously already knew as his friend and now, Kibum’s only long-lasting secretary. How she managed to smile and remain cheerful the way she did with that curse of a job, Minho would never know.

Jinki finally remembered what he did for a living and introduced himself as the marketing and promotional director, and Jonghyun had plenty to say about the fashion design team he headed. He’d been whisked over to the creative department to shake the hands of several people before watching awkwardly with Jinki while Jonghyun and his lead designer, Hayi argued over which colour had more drama between two identical shades of blue. Then Jinki had gotten a pager (“all these years and he still uses a _pager_ ,” Jonghyun made a face of disgust, as if the very act of owning the object was something akin to _murders kittens_ , “if that doesn’t smell like vintage fuckboy then what does?”) and the older man had apologised before leaving the two of them alone. And apparently once he had gone Jonghyun became busy too, with Minho being directed to the break room where more new faces awaited.

After that, beyond the enthusiasm of models Taemin, Amber, Junghwa and Joy during a very serious- and clearly not allowed, they’d all looked slightly guilty at being caught- drumstick eating competition, he was still at a complete loss as to who everyone was. Resigning himself to figuring it all out later, Minho trudged towards his broom closet of an office. The whole thing was weighing on him a little more heavily now, he had an actual no-seatbelts-included job. A job for what seemed like the devil, no less. He wasn’t quite sure if that measured up to an improvement in comparison to his last place of work. Then he thought about the time Heechul drop kicked a paperweight directly into his forehead and Odd Eye just pushed itself into first place.

Minho pushed open the door and slumped into the standard office chair shoved into the corner. He spun himself around aimlessly, taking a few minutes to breathe from the haywire morning he’d been subjected to. Just as he was about to reach for his phone, the desk phone buzzed aggressively, nearly vibrating itself off the desk. Minho scrambled into an upright sitting position and grabbed the phone, hands fumbling with it for a few seconds before bringing it up to his ear, an action he would very quickly regret.

 _“Where are you?”_ Kibum screeched. Minho didn’t even know it was possible to reach those decibels without breaking the barriers of sound. Yanking the thing away to a reasonable distance from his ear he attempted a garbled reply but was cut off instantly. “Forget it, come down to my office immediately. It’s urgent.” With that, he hung up and Minho was left with the end dial tone. He let out a groan and heaved himself off the chair, making his way towards what would most likely be his doom.

Kibum was waiting with his hands clasped on the desk. Hair perfectly coiffed, designer suit immaculate and glare as deadly as ever. The glass windows behind him reflected the light of the midday sun, a tinted orange rising up from the mahogany desk. The feeling of entering Satan’s layer only increased. Minho schooled his features into neutral, lest Kibum find something else to complain about. He wasn’t going to let the man get the better of him. Kibum may be his boss, but Minho wouldn’t be walked over like the rest of his employees.

“So, uh, what do you need?” He blurted, before tacking on a half-hearted, “sir.” _Way to go,_ he scolded himself, _real eloquent, Choi._

Evidently Kibum was thinking the same, but had bigger priorities to focus on. “Now that you’ve finally graced me with your presence, mediocre as it is,” he snarked, before gesturing to a tall stack of files, “I need you to go through these. They’re project books produced by Jonghyun’s team. Go through them and catalogue each product by name, date, material and whoever worked on each one. They’re currently in disarray because while Jonghyun is great at what he does, he leaves a hurricane in his wake.” The man didn’t drop eye contact the entire time he was speaking, using his chin to point to Minho and then the files. Minho made a soft _oh_ in understanding and hurried forward to pick up the surprisingly heavy pile. Grunting a little, he wrenched it from its place on the desk and slowly backed up, making to nod at Kibum before leaving when the man opened his mouth again.

“Have it done by tomorrow morning.” 

Minho paused. One of the loose papers slipped out of his grip, floating to the floor. His arms were already starting to tremble under the weight of the assortment of papers, books and photographs haphazardly shoved into a tower-like structure. It was almost half Minho’s height, and he knew how especially tall he was. Kibum had apparently finished with the conversation as he was now looking away from him and at his computer screen, clicking away and giving no hint that he knew or cared about Minho being there. 

“Sir?” He tried, though with his experience thus far he wasn’t confident it would do anything.

Kibum remained silent, still glaring at his screen and tapping his mouse with what seemed a far more aggressive pressure than necessary. Minho knew the man had heard him, knew that he was being ignored on purpose and given this insane task to get such a rise out of him, Kibum could effectively put all the blame on him as an employee and fire him. He wasn’t stupid. And he sure as hell was not about to take unsolicited scorn from a man he’d really only just met. But to play the game and win, especially with someone like Kibum, Minho needed to figure out the man’s strengths and weaknesses. Clearly, he wasn’t above being petty, but Minho could say the same about himself. Most likely this was one of the reasons that it had been hate at first sight.

Minho looked carefully at the man in front of him. A successful, arrogant and cold businessman. Except for the profession, the description felt awfully familiar to Minho, and a pang of guilt found its way into his already heavy heart. _This was my own doing,_ he sighed to himself, adjusting his grip on the stack of horrors so he could manage a half dignified walk out of the place when he suddenly stopped, eyes wide.

_Successful, arrogant and cold._

_In first place because he was born to be._

_Absolutely refused to lose._

Familiar, tried and tested, and a mistake that Minho had long ago decided to learn from. Now was the time. He huffed out a small breath before making his way out, but not before stopping at the door to say one last thing to Kibum.

 “Consider it done by the end of today.”

The sound of the keyboard clicking ceasing immediately was sign enough for him. Without turning back to see Kibum’s face, Minho let the door swing shut and grinned all the way back to his office.

 

* * *

 

Minho wasn’t grinning anymore.

 “You said _what?”_

Jonghyun very nearly deflated in his chair, eyes wide and mouth agape. He sat there, not even blinking for almost a solid minute. The dark foreboding that had evaded Minho earlier now came in for the kill and he felt nervousness start to bubble up. His descent into full blown panic was halted by Jonghyun suddenly glitching back into life. Jumping up from his seat he reached up to press a hand against Minho’s forehead.

“Did you catch something? Is it contagious? Will I get dumbass disease too? I think the utter foolishness you just told me is going to seep into my brain overnight, and I don’t need that kind of stress,” he babbled, resorting to shaking Minho by the shoulders when his hand got pushed away. “I have children to feed, Minho!” 

“You have one dog to feed,” Jinki corrected, shuffling in the room at a lackadaisical pace. “In fact, it’s usually me doing the feeding. You buy too much hairspray.”

“It’s for my _image,”_ Jonghyun protested, moving away from Minho to his next victim, now clinging onto Jinki’s sleeve as the older man scribbled intermittently on his clipboard. He responded casually, eyes not leaving his work for a second.

“No, it’s for those extra four centimetres of hair that you think nobody notices. We all notice. You’re fun-sized and that’s that. You can’t grow via excess propane.”

“I can try.”

“Please don’t, we can’t set this place on fire again.”

This spurred Minho back into action, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. “Again?” He asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. Jinki and Jonghyun both stopped their repartee to look at him, then back to each other before nodding.

“Never you mind. The point is,” Jonghyun relinquished his hold on Jinki to straighten up and school his expression into something less petulant, “that you’ve pretty much granted your own death wish. This idiot over here just told Kibum he’d finish _all of this,”_ he waved at the intimidating pile of books and papers Minho had dropped onto his desk earlier, “by today. _Today!_ There’s only about six more hours of that!” Jonghyun explained to Jinki, hand gestures becoming more and more wild the longer he spoke. Jinki calmly listened throughout, only moving to stop Jonghyun from flailing himself into a filing cabinet. He glanced at Minho, who shrugged guiltily. He couldn’t help it, competing was what he was good at and frankly, it had been far too satisfying an opportunity to pass up. Even if he was sort of regretting it now.

“Look, I know it was a bit mad but this was pretty much impossible anyway. Kibum is definitely making me do this to get rid of me as quickly as possible, but I can’t stand the idea of letting him just- just walk all over me. Or any of his employees,” he added, looking at the other two men. Minho sighed. “I guess it doesn’t matter anyway. I don’t know the first thing about any of this stuff, and he’s probably itching to tell me I’m fired already.” He gazed mournfully at his towering stack of suffering.

Jinki offered him a pitying look while Jonghyun looked strangely thoughtful. Despite Minho’s brief stay, he already knew that didn’t bode well. His hunch was proved correct not a moment later when Jonghyun sprung into action, dragging Jinki out the room with the enthusiasm of a mild tornado. Minho blinked, not quite sure what he had said to prompt what he hoped would involve a minimal level of damage. Heechul sprang to mind and Minho nearly groaned at the realisation that he may no longer be working with the man himself, but certainly his much shorter reincarnate.

He almost jumped when Jonghyun’s head popped up again round the door, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “We’ll be right back! You just stay here. I have an idea.” 

Minho crossed his arms, eyeing the man warily. “Why do I feel like it’s going to be a bad one?”

“Because you’re learning,” Jinki called out from the hallway, making a rather delighted Jonghyun cackle before disappearing again. Minho rolled his eyes. These two would really keep him on his toes.

That was, if he managed to survive his new employment by tomorrow. Groaning in resignation he sunk into Jonghyun's chair, too worried to even chuckle to himself at the amount of cushions teetering over each other on the damn thing. If he had just kept his mouth _shut_ , but he couldn’t. He wasn’t docile, and he certainly wasn’t going to take shit from some pompous asshole-

Minho paused. Reminded himself that he had a mountain of work to do rather than sit around and curse Kibum’s name, tempting as that option was. Allowing his gaze to travel to his workload, he thought instead of how pissed the man would be if he really finished it all. He thought about the pause in his ever present clacking on the keyboard, shocked into silence. It worked almost too well as motivation. No way he would let himself crash and burn with that at stake.

Adjusting himself on the seat- and removing at least three hot pink cushions, exactly how did Jonghyun manage to sit on this balancing act of a chair- Minho reached for the uppermost file on the stack, flipping it open to the first page. He frowned, straining to read Jonghyun’s handwriting. The longer he stared at the page the more the indecipherable scribbles seemed to be _moving_. Minho wasn’t even sure this was Korean. 

“We’re back!” Jonghyun’s dulcet tones greeted Minho’s ears at a higher pitch than was really necessary, along with chatter from a voice, _voices,_ that didn’t belong to him. He sat up, curious. Then nearly threw the book in his hands straight at the lightbulb overhead as the door slammed open and Taemin burst forth, making a beeline for him, hair bobbing and snorting giggles making their way out of his mouth.

“Minho! We’re here to save your ass!” He exclaimed, clearly far too overjoyed at this fact. Minho decided not questioning it was the best port of call. Instead he went along with the young man’s enthusiasm.

“We?” He asked.

“He means us!” Amber, he was pretty sure, her cropped blue hair was hard to miss, piped up, waving cheerily at him. She appeared with several other people, mostly the models Minho had met earlier. There were some new faces among them, looking generally disgruntled. Minho assumed that was Jonghyun’s doing. Jinki rounded up the gaggle of people, fixing his glasses in place as he spotted Minho, shrugging with an easy grin when he looked puzzled.

“This is for your benefit, you may as well go along with the programme,” he said, rolling up his sleeves a smidge and accepting a paper trimmer that Jonghyun had seemingly procured from nowhere. The shorter man didn’t let go of the thing immediately, opting to trap Jinki in the most serious gaze Minho had seen him use yet.

“I’m trusting you with this, old man. Don’t get hurt. Get hurt and I’ll swat you with this myself.”

“Seems counterproductive.”

 “No big words before ten we’ve been over this.”

“It’s two in the afternoon.”

“Semantics,” Jonghyun waved Jinki off, to which he only got a fond smile in return. Minho restrained himself from snorting. He was still in a bit of a predicament.

“So what are all of you here for, exactly?” Minho asked, blinking at the ten odd people that had spread out around the room, all wielding various items of stationary. Amber seemed to be under attack where Junghwa was threatening her playfully with a ruler. Taemin seemed to be able to answer him at least, while he was clinging to him like a leech.

“Like I said, we’re gonna help you out! Jonghyun said you did something stupid and we all needed to help you unfuck it up ASAP. That’s a direct quote, by the way.” Minho couldn’t help an amused smile.

“I guess it’s not far off from the truth. Thanks for the help, but just...why?” He wondered aloud. It was his mistake, after all. This only got him a huff from Junghwa, who waved her sharpened ruler at him.

“Because we want to! This may be work, but Odd Eye isn’t just a business. It’s an eclectic gathering of like-minded people, a safe haven. In fact, it’s more than any of those things. We are, above all, a family.” Her face was solemn, and everyone around her was staring at her. Mostly unimpressed.

“That,” Amber said, “and if Kibum gets anymore pissed off this week then the danger level rises from superficial insults to a lampshade to the face.” Junghwa shrugged.

“That too.” 

“Alright,” Jinki interrupted, “how about we get started? Jonghyun, I’m assuming you want to hand out assignments.” 

“You assume correct, Mr Lee. Right! Operation Get-Minho-Not-Fired is a go, so I want Junghwa and Joy working on last year’s project book for fall fashion, you’ll find it here-‘

One by one, Jonghyun began rattling off names and tasks, people taking a book or a bunch of files from the slowly shrinking pile. With every person the heavy weight Minho had felt got lighter and lighter until at last they were left with one book between him, Jinki, Jonghyun and Taemin.

“Taemin, since you’re more of a hazard than anything else, I just want you to model for us in the back if anybody asks for one of the items to be pictured again. Some of these aren’t really done to the standard Kibum will be expecting,” Jonghyun admitted a little sheepishly. Taemin, seemingly blowing past the mild insult was happy enough to go play with the clothes rack that sat at the other end of Jonghyun’s office space. Jinki moved forward to give Jonghyun an affirming pat on the shoulder. 

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, these are just small things. Your work is marvellous as always.” 

“Still isn’t enough to placate Kibum.” He sighed dramatically.

“Well, we all know what he’s like these days. Which is why _you_ ,” he now nodded at Minho, “are going to deal with this.” The man held up the last book, an old, battered and well worn looking thing with yellowing pages. Minho reached out a hand to carefully take it, examining it curiously.

“Why do I get this one in particular?” He flipped it open, immediately drawn to the sheer mass of carefully laid out designs, delicate strokes of pen seemingly formed into anatomical figures with all kinds of adornments and outerwear. They ranged from dressed up suits and dresses to the wild and wonderful. Minho flicked through the pages, each one more and more complex and captivating than the last.

“This is your work?” He muttered in amazement.

“It’s Kibum’s.”

Minho’s head snapped up from the page he had been gawking at. Jonghyun grinned. 

“You’re kidding.” 

“Nope!” He giggled, plucking the book from a stunned Minho’s hands and placing it on the table before slapping a brand new, empty project book beside it. Both Minho and Jinki frowned at the shorter man, trying to see where he’d procured this particular item. How he always managed to whip out tools from thin air Minho would never know. 

“You didn’t think Kibum just appeared as the big scary boss one day, did you?” Minho opened his mouth to respond, but thinking back to the way Satan himself practically looked made for that throne of his, he wouldn’t put it past him. But that didn’t appear to be the correct answer.

“No,” he said grudgingly, leaning in closer to the desk to see what Jonghyun was now doing.

“He did his own designs to get here, you know. Everything I do is run by him obviously, but more so because it’s his eye that makes this place, well, Odd Eye!” He grabbed the paper trimmer from Jinki, who scrunched up his nose a little to let him know that was rude, and set about cutting designs out of the ancient book in front of him. 

“We’re going to repurpose his best works from here, the ones that we didn’t use at the time, because unfortunately, we were only in our first few years then. If I edit some of these a bit, and we clean this book up, then there’s no way he’ll be mad! Everyone wins.”

“Unless he hates it,” Minho pointed out. Jonghyun made a face, so he hurried on. “But otherwise, that’s a good idea. You think he’ll be a bit more chipper if he, what? Relives the glory days?”

Jinki and Jonghyun both exchanged a look. Minho was sensing a pattern.

“More like humble beginnings,” Jinki said at last, holding down the paper trimmer for a struggling Jonghyun. “Now, if we keep going with this for the next few hours, I think we’ll have time to try a few of these newer pieces on Taemin before he starts getting fidgety…”

Minho nodded along and set to work, following Jinki’s straightforward instructions and avoiding flyaway papers from Jonghyun. The sound of an ever present giggly Taemin and Amber continued in the background as he worked, filling in dates and numbers from documents that Jinki had managed to pull up on the desk computer. Despite the tediousness of their tasks, the room was full of voices and laughter, a bright energy surrounding all of them as they hurried to complete their projects before judgement day fell upon them. Minho wasn’t sure what it was truly, but he felt an inkling of that same warmth from years ago, where it didn’t matter what happened as long as that warmth never faded. He found himself wondering when it _did_ fade, but shook his head and determinedly focused on the job at hand. He had to leave that for another time. For now, he had an ass-kicking to avoid. And memory lane was never going to serve him well in that regard. For now, he decided the past could stay where it was.

For now, Minho moved forwards.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m full of lies this update is super late i’m SORRY
> 
> uni is. intense so yeah progress here is a little sparse but i definitely plan to finish this story! 
> 
> be aware i know zero (0) about the fashion industry this is all based on very reliable google research..
> 
>  
> 
> \+ jongyu?? is that u?? possibly


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